the castle doors that had opened, and the city gates that had
unclosed, at the summons of the little long-haired boy whose
figure was painted on the missal.

He had come now to where the houses were much more numerous,
though under the shade of great trees,--lovely old gray houses,
some of wood, some of stone, some with frescos on them and gold
and color and mottoes, some with deep barred casements, and carved
portals, and sculptured figures; houses of the poorer people now,
but still memorials of a grand and gracious time. For he had
wandered into the quarter of St. Nicholas in this fair mountain
city, which he, like his country-folk, called Sprugg, though the
government calls it Innspruck.

He got out upon a long gray wooden bridge, and looked up and down
the reaches of the river, and thought to himself, maybe this was
not Sprugg but Jerusalem, so beautiful it looked with its domes
shining golden in the sun, and the snow of the Soldstein and
Branjoch behind them. For little Findelkind had never come so far
as this before. As he stood on the bridge so dreaming, a hand
clutched him, and a voice said:--

"A whole kreutzer, or you do not pass!"

Findelkind started and trembled.

A kreutzer! he had never owned such a treasure in all his life.

"I have no money," he murmured timidly; "I came to see if I could
get money for the poor."